Draden’s entire demeanor shifted; the countenance of a simple chef vanished, replaced by something else. A man who was harder, colder, one who had killed countless monsters, beasts, and people across all different forms of battlefields. This was a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill a few more to protect his daughter.

  The energy trapped within his meridians from the food he had recently eaten began to stir.

  He pulled the sword out from behind the door and plunged it into the ground at the man’s feet, cutting off the tip of his left-most shoe all before the man could react.

  "Tell your master," Draden said, each word precise and as sharp as the knives in his kitchen. "That my daughter's future is none of his concern. Tell him I am not for sale. And tell him that if any of his men, including you, ever set foot on my property again, I will not be responsible for my actions. If I ever even hear a whisper that your vaunted master is looking in my direction, he won’t like how I respond. He could have simply made an appearance here as a regular patron, but no, he had to take things to this level."

  A sheen of sweat had coated the butler’s face when the tip of his shoe had been removed before he could react. The condescending amusement that had been plastered on Valerius’s face was now gone. He had expected a blustering chef, or a terrified father. He had not expected this quiet, furious, unshakeable resolve and power. The information they had about the man all said that he had lost his cultivation. That speed did not belong to someone who had lost their cultivation.

  He hadn’t even been able to react to it. If the chef had wanted, he could have cut him down right then and there.

  Valerius’s polite smile returned, though with a definite, fragile brittleness to it. "A clear answer. Lord Tavian appreciates clarity. He will be… informed of your decision." He paused, swallowing as his gaze swept over the restaurant one last time. "A shame the two of you could have done great things together."

  Without another word, he turned, began to place a scroll on a bench beside the door, only to decide better of it and place it back inside his suit jacket.

  Draden watched him enter the waiting carriage and then continued to watch until it disappeared down the road. Only then did he allow himself to breathe. Pulling his sword out of the ground, he checked the tip for nicks, not finding any.

  Breathing out, he closed the door and sank to the ground, the sword falling from his grip. He groaned in pain, putting his back against the door. That brief, explosive show of force had sucked his meridians dry of qi. It was a good thing that everything he had been making had a tendency to reinforce his meridians; otherwise, they would have collapsed just now.

  For anyone else, that would have been game over, the end of their cultivation journey. In his case, it was just another stepping stone that would temporarily slow his progress. After all, his food had been forced to fix a few of those in the beginning already.

  They had been relatively minor meridians, thankfully, but there had still been a few that had collapsed over the years. The original Draden of this world had done his best to keep more from collapsing, with limited success.

  He crawled back into his kitchen and grabbed a biscuit, tearing into it with a ferocity that would have surprised anyone who saw him. He might have gotten away with it this time, but that was not something he wanted to experience again. Life was unpredictable, and nobles with their stupid pride even more so. He would need to create something small that he could carry around for an emergency.

  Did he know any recipes for candy?

  Grabbing his notebook and pencil, he idly spun the pencil around his thumb while he ate another biscuit and thought. It was a simple question, and yet, at the moment, he couldn’t even think of any candies that could be made at home. All he could see in his mind was the processed garbage that came from the store. It didn’t help that he wasn’t a big fan of chocolate, or most sugar, either, as it had often left him feeling somewhat sick.

  He had noticed that it was better here, as a few of the items he had made used an amount of sugar that would have previously left him with a stomachache at the very least. It was a nice change, but another curious one among all the rest.

  Dropping the notebook, he went back out front and retrieved his sword. This was something he could worry about later. At the moment, he still wanted to get some more exercise in before the others arrived.

  ***

  When he returned to the restaurant sometime later, his muscles had a slight ache to them from the recent workout, and his hair was damp from the shower.

  Emilie and Alice were busy cleaning the tables and setting everything up for the night, while Leah and Eowin were playing quietly in the corner.

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  “Daddy!” Leah squealed happily, spotting him. She leaped to her feet and rushed toward him, glomping onto his leg with all her strength.

  “Hey sweetie, how was school? Where’s Marcus and Coradine?” He asked while stroking her hair.

  “They’re doing something to the house, and resta-ant,” She told him cheerfully. “School was fun, Winnie was there,” Leah replied simply.

  He chuckled and picked her up. Life was so much simpler when you were a child; all it took to make you happy was going to school with your best friend. Then, as you got older, things got needlessly complicated, and it became harder to find joy in those simple things.

  Draden kissed her cheek, and after hugging her, put her back down. “I’m glad you had a good day. Did you enjoy the lunch I prepared for you?”

  Her eyes widened, and she nodded emphatically. “It was sooo good, and there was so much of it. All of us got to eat.”

  He chuckled, “Good, that’s why I made so much.”

  Alice came forward as Leah went back to playing with Eowyn. “Mister Elmsworth sent me over with a delivery of forty half loaves.” She showed him their approximate size with her hands, indicating that they were about six inches in length. “I did my best to remember how many bowls of chili we sold last night when I was explaining what we would need the bread for.”

  He nodded in appreciation. The crowd that night could go in either direction; it could be busier than the weekend or less so. As for the bread itself… “Is that going to be too much bread?” He wondered. On Earth, they usually only provided a slice or two of bread, not an entire half loaf.

  ***

  The clatter of plates and the low hum of conversation filled the restaurant as the evening service hit its peak. Draden constantly moved through the kitchen, plating one dish after another, filling the different orders. He filled a bowl of chili, the steam rising in lazy curls, carrying the rich scent of spices and slow-simmered beef. He ladled it generously, then placed a half loaf of bread beside it.

  The motions were automatic, a rhythm he'd built after starting the restaurant.

  He handed the plate to Emilie. "One order of chili," He told her.

  Emilie slid it onto her serving tray with a quick nod. “Two more chilis, and four tacos.” Her usual smile was strained; the night was far busier than normal.

  Out in the dining room, a burly miner named Garrick sat at a corner table, his calloused hands wrapping around the steaming bowl. He'd been in every night since the chili debuted, drawn by the rumors of food that mended more than hunger. He broke the bread first, the crust parting with a soft crackle, releasing a puff of delicious steam. He dunked a piece into the chili, the crust soaking up the thick, savory broth laced with hints of cumin and chili powder.

  As he took his first bite, the warmth spread through him, the bread’s tender interior contrasting with the slight crisp of its crust. The chili on his spoon followed moments after, its deep, earthy flavors unfolding, and tender beef melting against the tongue. The beans added a subtle creaminess, all tied together with a gentle heat that built without overwhelming. But it was the qi that truly hit him, a soothing rush that eased the chronic ache in his shoulders from years underground. For a moment, the weight of the mines lifted, replaced by a clarity he hadn't felt in ages.

  "This ain't just food," He muttered to his companion, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's like breathin' fresh air after a cave-in."

  Draden caught snippets of similar reactions through the kitchen doorway, patrons leaning back in their chairs, eyes closing in quiet satisfaction as the energy from his dishes worked its subtle magic. It should have brought him a sense of accomplishment, but tonight, it only sharpened his resolve. These people came here for solace, for healing. He wouldn't let Tavian, the City Lord, or anyone else turn this place into a cage.

  As the rush began to slow, Leah wandered in from the house side, her small feet pattering against the wooden floor. She'd been ‘helping’ Eowin color pictures in the back room, but now she tugged at his apron, her green eyes wide and expectant. "Daddy, can Leah have a taco? Winnie too? We drew a picture of you cooking!"

  Coradine and Marcus had spent some time teaching the girls earlier, but were now busy re-powering the wards Lorna had applied to the house when it was initially built.

  He glanced down, her strawberry-blonde hair still a bit wild from the day's play. Despite his best efforts, a genuine smile tugged at his lips. "Of course, sweetie. What kind would you like? The ones meant for lunch or the ones for dinner?"

  She nodded vigorously, her little hands clasping together in excitement. "Yes! With the extra green stuff 'cause it tickles Leah's tongue!"

  Draden chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tightness still lingering in his chest. He assembled two small, simple tacos quickly; warm corn tortillas folded around marinated chicken shreds, diced red onions to add a sharp crunch and tang, fresh cilantro scattered on the top, and then a smidgen of sour cream and salsa, followed by a wedge of lime on the side. The shredded chicken was tender, infused with the marinade made from his summoned ingredients, its juices mingling with the bright acidity of the lime.

  He handed them over on a small plate, watching as Leah scampered back to Eowin.

  The two girls sat cross-legged on the floor in the corner, away from the remaining patrons. Leah squeezed the lime with exaggerated concentration, her tongue poking out as juice squirted everywhere, including onto Eowin's sleeve. "Oops! Winnie, now you're sour too!" Leah giggled, her voice a bubbly trill that cut through the restaurant's murmur.

  Eowin, who was almost as odd of a girl as his own child, licked her sleeve with a green. “Yup, I definitely taste sour.” She giggled and squirted some lime juice onto Leah’s arm in turn before dripping the rest on her taco.

  Leah's eyes widened as she looked at her arm in mock horror. “Nooo,” She cried out. “My arm has become food. I can’t hold myself back!” Her mouth latched onto her arm as she licked the juice from it, her face screwing up at the sourness. “Blech, I don’t taste good.”

  Leah wiped her arm off and took a bite of her taco instead. She munched happily, the taco's flavors bursting in her mouth, the depth of the chicken was balanced by fresh vegetables, the lime and salsa cutting through with a tang that made her cheeks pucker in delight. The qi was gentle on her young body, a warm trickle that made her feel like she could run forever. Eowin mirrored her energy soothing a scraped knee from their earlier play, leaving her with a contented sigh.

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